Chapter 3 #2
“I believe it,” Callum said quietly, his eyes transfixed on the court.
For as much as he was impressed by her beauty, he was completely captivated by her athleticism.
Watching her was a sport in itself. The way she would sail through the air with the grace of a dancer, then pound the ball with the force of a lumberjack.
A forehand return exploded off Brielle’s racquet and skidded dead on Steve’s baseline.
She gave a fist pump, then strutted to the back court picking at her strings as she went.
“A lot of people thought she’d give it up.” The man paused, his attention on the court when she nailed a deadly swing volley. “But they don’t know Brielle.”
Callum nodded, watching as she pranced back to the baseline, jealous of the ball she pulled out from under her skirt. “You seem to know her pretty well.”
“Are you kidding? I practically raised her. She’s been here at the school since her deadbeat father dropped her on my doorstep.”
Callum turned. “You must be Anston Vitalie. You own this place.”
“That’s me.”
In Callum’s research, Vitalie’s name had popped up once or twice. He was the owner of the Vitalie School and Brielle’s head coach. Callum extended his hand to him. “I’m Callum Harrison. I’m a friend of Brielle’s.”
“Well, a friend of Brielle’s is a friend of mine.” He accepted Callum’s gesture then turned his attention back to the court. “I’m glad she has some friends to support her. She could use all the help she can get, especially with that maniac on the loose.”
“That’s actually why I’m here. I am a private investigator. I’m sort of overseeing the investigation.”
“Really? I hope you can light a fire under law enforcement better than Geoffrey Martin can.”
Callum noted the angry tone in his voice. “I take it you’re not a fan of his.”
Anston let out a breath. “Let’s just say I don’t trust him. He’s an operator. He doesn’t care about anybody but his own damn self.”
“Why do you say that?” Callum asked.
“He and I used to be partners. We opened the Vitalie Tennis School fourteen years ago. It has my name because I put up most of the money. Anyway, we both loved the sport. He’s the business end and I do the coaching.”
“And now it is a huge success.”
“That’s right.” He smiled. “Out of the top twenty men and women tennis players in the world, about half attended here. Most have big time endorsements now.”
“That means a lot of money for you.”
“I’m a coach not a manager. Like I said, Geoffrey was the one who was into the business end of it.
I just wanted to play the game, but Geoffrey had his own agenda.
He would home in on promising players and shop them around like prize cattle.
That’s what he did with Brielle. Now he’s trying to do the same with Nila Norcova. ”
“Wait a minute, why is Nila hanging out with Geoffrey if she is still affiliated with you?”
“I don’t own these girls.” Vitalie replied. “They can do what they want. That’s why I haven’t said anything to Brielle about her ridiculous engagement to Geoffrey.”
“You think it’s a bad idea.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely. Why do you suppose a girl like Brielle would be with a guy like him? You know how many good, decent men out there would kill to be with her?”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“I just hope that jerk isn’t taking advantage of her.”
Callum just nodded. Vitalie was pretty forthcoming with unsolicited information and he wondered what else the man knew. He was considering his next line of questioning when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at it.
Tonight. Usual place.
Interesting.
He turned back toward the court, watching as Brielle patted herself dry with a towel, laughing at something one of the other players said.
Unguarded and brilliant. Exactly as she was meant to be.
Thoughtfully, he restowed his phone. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Vitalie,” Callum said quietly.
“This engagement between Geoffrey and Brielle. Do you think he loves her?”
Anston chuckled. “That’s funny.” He looked Callum dead in the eye. “I think he’s in love with what she’s worth.”
“So how did I look?” Brielle threw her bag into the trunk of her cherry-red Porsche. She tossed Callum the keys then slid into the passenger side.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad! Callum, it was awesome.”
“How does your arm feel?”
She wanted to say “great” but she’d be lying.
It was fine when she stepped off the court but now that she’d showered and changed her clothes, the ache was back.
Unzipping the front of her white sweat jacket, she reached up and rubbed her left shoulder.
“I guess I shouldn’t expect too much on the first day, right? ”
“Healing takes time,” he said. “Got to be patient.”
He spoke like he knew what he was talking about. She glanced at his arm and the scars exposed below the short sleeve. “Thanks for driving,” she finally said. “I haven’t played in a while and I am sort of tired.”
“No problem. Actually, I’m kind of psyched. It’s not every day I get to drive a Porsche with a 3.6 liter, 6800 horsepower engine. You were smart to go with a six-speed manual overdrive instead of the five-speed automatic. Way more efficient.”
“I liked it because it was red,” she corrected, “and I don’t speak your language.”
“I should have known a classy girl like you isn’t fluent in grease monkey. So what kind of fuel do you use?”
“The kind that makes the car go,” she answered as if it were a question. Leaning toward him, she turned up the air conditioning.
“Not full blast,” he cautioned. “It taxes the engine.”
She watched him drum his fingers on the wheel with one hand while he leaned against the door with the other. “Okay, I have to ask. How would someone like you know all this stuff about cars?”
”Someone like me?”
She pulled at his Ralph Lauren t-shirt. “You certainly don’t look like a mechanic.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. Well, I guess I drive them and I ride in them. It’s useful to know things about them. So, do you use regular unleaded or premium fuel? Say regular and break my heart.”
“Do I look like someone who pumps her own gas?”
“You know, you should really use premium with an engine like this. Even if you don’t run the car on the track, it needs the premium. It keeps the insides clean.”
“Okayyyy,” she said slowly.
He slid his hands around the steering wheel, pushing back against the seat. “For example, would you use generic shampoo to wash that hair of yours, or would you prefer the high-end, expensive imported stuff from Europe?”
“Those are my only two choices?”
“But you get my point, right? High performance things deserve high maintenance.”
“So I deserve premium fuel. Is that what you mean?”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m inviting you to my place for dinner.”
There was the charm again. “Do you cook?”
“No, but I do know how to dial a phone.”
“Smart ass,” she laughed, then smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I mean that in a good way.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“No really. I had fun today. I’m playing tennis again and I have you to thank for that. Maybe you’re not such as bad guy after all.”
Callum kept his eyes straight ahead, but the subtle shift of his jaw told her he got her sincerity.
“You know, I have an idea. It seems like we’re at the point where we don’t mind each other’s company.”
Brielle laughed. “Agreed.”
“How about I treat you to dinner. I’ll show you my little place by the ocean, and we’ll celebrate your good day on the court.”
“And what about your waitress friend? What’s she doing tonight?”
“Probably working. Same as me.”
“Working?”
“Yeah. Remember? I’m your bodyguard,” he winked. “Nice work if you can get it.”
Something curious and reckless stirred in her chest as she studied him. This man she barely knew, whose charm kept pulling her in despite every reason she should resist.
“All right,” she said. “Dinner it is.”
Her hand drifted to the gearshift without thinking, landing right over his.
Callum glanced down, then back at the road like nothing had happened. But his fingers shifted beneath hers, catching hers in a subtle tug, just enough to make her breath hitch.
“Perfect,” he said smoothly. “I think we’ve both worked up a decent appetite.”